


Peach

by chamyl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale is Not Good at resisting temptations, Aziraphale is stronk, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is Not Good at not indulging Aziraphale, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Quickies, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wall Sex, a peach is not just a peach, am I ever going to stop writing wall scenes for them?, demonic powers and all that jazz, no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 00:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamyl/pseuds/chamyl
Summary: It is just a peach. He’s eaten plenty of peaches before. There is no reason why this one should be any different. He can have it if he wants it. However—he’s perfectly aware he’s being tempted, and that’s why he should say no. He should control himself.Crowley brings the peach to his own mouth, and Aziraphale watches him, transfixed, lips parted and breath itching in his throat. The demon locks eyes with him as he takes a bite, the sound wet and sweet and obscene.~~~Aziraphale asks Crowley to use his demonic powers to tempt him. It's very effective.





	Peach

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write things because I want to read them. This is one of those times.

Demons can’t sense love.

That’s a fact. It’s supposed to be a punishment for their sins. Crowley never missed it much, anyway. In Heaven, beside God’s love, there was barely any trace of it for him to feel.

He was cast out of Heaven before the Earth was created, losing his capacity to feel love long before being sent on the planet. Therefore, he has no clue what Aziraphale is going on about when he babbles about the humans’ love for this or that.

There’s one upside to this loss. Losing one your senses makes the others sharper, and something like it happened to Crowley. During the course of a few millennia on Earth, the demon developed a brand new sense. He wouldn’t know what to call it. It takes many forms. Sometimes it’s a tingle in his stomach, warning him that Aziraphale is in danger and needs his help. Sometimes it’s a burning feeling at the base of his throat, telling him Aziraphale is sad or upset. Like when he had to be told, twice, that his bookshop had burned down. And, sometimes, it’s a little alarm going off in his head, alerting him that Aziraphale has something on his mind he’s not saying out loud.

They’ve been living together for a couple of years now. The cottage is just as lovely as when they first moved in. Crowley is managing to grow ivy on one side of the house, making it, if that’s possible, even more charming. Aziraphale maintains the ivy is spreading so fast just because it’s running away from Crowley’s threatening screams. Crowley agrees, quite proud of himself.

Around noon, he’s forced back indoors by the smouldering heat. Too much, even for an old snake such as himself. He steps back into the cottage, sighing out in relief as he shuts the door behind and feels the refreshing coolness of the living room.

Immediately, Aziraphale’s eyes are on him. Crowley knows. He can feel them, but says nothing. He takes off his gardening gloves, leaves them on the small table by the front door. He runs his fingers through his hair, sweat making it stick to his forehead. He undoes a few buttons of his black shirt, baring a bit of his chest. Aziraphale’s gaze burns into him.

So that’s what it is, isn’t it? The thought that’s been rolling in Aziraphale’s head for days. Something to do with sex.

Crowley has fallen out of the habit of keeping his glasses on when it’s just the two of them. When he sits next to the angel, on the couch, he can stare at him with no barriers in between.

Aziraphale blinks and smiles innocently at him, not fooling him one bit. “And how was your morning? Is the lavender flowering yet?”

“Angel.” Crowley chides him, gently. “Do you _really_ want to talk about my lavender?”

Aziraphale opens his mouth to speak and shuts it again. He has a book he’s been pretending to read on his knees. He closes it and puts it on the coffee table, then gathers his hands in his lap.

Crowley recognizes that for the sign it is and shifts closer, nuzzling his neck. He kisses a soft spot beneath his jawline. Aziraphale shivers against his lips.

“I just had an idea, that’s all.” He admits, and Crowley puts a hand on his knee, giving it a little squeeze.

“Yes?” He tugs at his earlobe with his lips, earning an appreciative noise from the angel.

“Well, see, Crowley, you…” Crowley slides his hand up his thigh, thumb rubbing a small circle through the Aziraphale’s pants. “You are a demon.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“The thing is, dearest, you… you are much better at certain tasks than I could ever be.”

Crowley furrows his brow. “Such as?”

“Well.” There it is, coming to light, the thing Aziraphale has been thinking over. Crowley senses it, rising slowly to the surface. “Tempting.”

“I… yes?” Crowley pulls back a little to take a look at his angel. “I suppose I am.”

Aziraphale averts his gaze, worrying at his lower teeth with his lips. Crowley is left to put together the pieces of the puzzle by himself. He doesn’t think of himself as particularly clever, but he does figure this one out in a matter of seconds.

“Do you want me to tempt you?” He asks, and, as soon as the words leave his lips, Aziraphale is tensing up, almost imperceptibly. “Tempt you into sex?”

“I—that’s not—I didn’t say…” Aziraphale blushes.

Adorable. Crowley can think of a vast number of wicked things they’ve done by this point, so he knows that Aziraphale is not _truly_ embarrassed. He just wants Crowley to take the initiative. Often, he wants to be talked into something he thought up himself. His spoiled, lovely angel.

“I’ve never been tempted before. I don’t know what it’s like.” Says Crowley, arching an eyebrow. “I have no idea whether it’s pleasant, that is.”

“Try, maybe? Start with something innocuous.” Aziraphale suggests, still not looking at him. “I can take it.”

“Alright.” He replies, slowly. “Hold on.”

Crowley stands up and drops by the kitchen to pick up a peach from the bowl on the table. He comes back with the plump fruit in his right hand, holding it in front of Aziraphale’s eyes as he sits back down next to him.

Then, he focuses.

* * *

Aziraphale sees his reality shift before his eyes.

He still feels like himself, but everything around him readjusts. The colours are brighter. The couch is softer. And the peach in Crowley’s hand… it looks so perfect, round and soft.

God, his throat feels fucking parched. His heart thrums in his ears. His mouth is dry, and he uselessly licks his lips.

“Would you like a bite?” Crowley’s voice comes to him like a balm. A guiding light, beckoning him forward and towards the peach. He stops. He shouldn’t. He’s an angel, for Heaven’s sake. He should be better than this. He should be able to resist any temptation.

“It’s just a peach, y’know.” Crowley reassures him.

It is just a peach. He’s eaten plenty of peaches before. There is no reason why this one should be any different. He can have it if he wants it. However—he’s perfectly aware he’s being tempted, and that’s why he should say no. He should control himself.

Crowley brings the peach to his own mouth, and Aziraphale watches him, transfixed, lips parted and breath itching in his throat. The demon locks eyes with him as he takes a bite, the sound wet and sweet and obscene. Juice trickles down his chin and Aziraphale clutches the edge of the couch to stop himself from licking it away.

“_Hmmm_.” Crowley makes a long, pleased sound Aziraphale has often heard in bed. “It’s _so_ good, angel. Just the thing, on a hot day like today. You sure you don’t—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence before Aziraphale has grabbed his hand with both of his, bringing the peach to his mouth and biting hard into it.

As soon as he does, everything changes back to normal. Aziraphale snaps out of it, mouth still full of fruit. It’s a good peach, even without the added allure of the temptation, so he chews and swallows.

* * *

“You alright?” Crowley miracles the peach back to the kitchen with a snap of his fingers, cleaning himself in the process. He takes Aziraphale’s face in his hands, scanning it for any sign of discomfort. He’s fine, his _Aziraphale-sense_ tells him. More than fine. In fact, one might say he’s just _peachy_. “How was it?”

Aziraphale blinks a few times. “Quite… ah, intense.”

“Good intense or bad intense?”

Aziraphale gives him a wobbly smile. “Good. Very good. It didn’t… hm.”

“What? What is it?” Crowley asks, not without apprehension.

“It didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. It simply made everything seem easier and better.”

“That’s why it’s called a temptation, I’d wager.” Crowley relaxes back into the couch. He’d been more nervous than he’d realized. Aziraphale, on the other end, is smiling like he’s just discovered something very, very interesting, and doesn’t want to give away how excited he is. Crowley waits patiently for the obvious question. It takes the angel only a handful of seconds to decide to go for it.

“Would you—”

“Yes.” He replies immediately. “Of course. But we’ll start slow, yes?”

Aziraphale agrees, nodding.

* * *

There he is again. In the altered version of reality where everything is just a little better.

Crowley is studying him with his beautiful, beautiful golden eyes. Aziraphale wonders whether he’s told him enough times how much he loves them. The demon hasn’t even said anything yet, and he already feels himself moving forward. Crowley is as attractive as he always is, which is a lot. But the temptation is giving Aziraphale the chance to let go of any other thoughts and focus solely on him, like he wouldn’t be able to do on his own.

As he told Crowley, it’s very intense. Good intense.

He goes in for a kiss, immediately open mouthed and full of tongue. The little stunt with the peach already made his heart race. Crowley’s mouth is unbearably sweet and pliant, yielding for him without a second’s hesitation. Aziraphale moans into the kiss, standing up and pulling Crowley along with him.

“Hey now,” Crowley smiles against his lips, hands on the angel’s waist. “I’ve barely done anything yet.”

“But you taste so good,” Aziraphale hears himself purr at him, eliciting a moan as he presses a thigh between the demon’s legs.

“Greedy thing.” Crowley makes an amused sound, but starts grinding against his thigh. “You don’t need to be tempted at all, you do it all on your own.”

“Unfair,” Aziraphale whines, reaching around him to grab his ass. “Take some responsibility.”

“Never.” Crowley replies, nibbling at the skin on the angel’s neck. “So, should I… something small?”

“_Yes_. Please.”

“Alright.” He pulls back a little bit. He takes Aziraphale’s hand in his, and guides it until it’s sinking into his red hair. His voice drops to a low growl. “Pull, angel. Make me gasp.”

Aziraphale doesn’t have to be told twice. This time, he gives in immediately, yanking at Crowley’s hair, seeing his head tilt backwards with a moan, exposing his throat.

After that, it all becomes a bit of a blur.

* * *

Crowley feels his back hit the wall at the same time as his clothes vanish. The surprised sound he makes is swallowed by Aziraphale’s lips, hungry and relentless, claiming his mouth, then his throat, then his shoulders, bite after bite.

It happens so fast he has no time to think. Generally, he’s extremely focused on his lover, what he wants, what he needs – this time, it seems that all Aziraphale wants and needs is him, right now, right against that wall.

He’s never seen him quite so unhinged before, and fuck, it’s _hot_. He’d scold himself for never thinking about doing this before, but any rational thought is shoved right out of his mind as Aziraphale grabs him by the ass and lifts him off the floor.

Crowley’s legs wrap around Aziraphale’s waist on their own accord. He stares down at their bodies, eyes open wide. He, well—he always sort of assumed Aziraphale would be able to hoist him up if need be. Aziraphale is much stronger than he looks, underneath all his softness. And Crowley, for all that he always tends to take up as much space as possible, is quite light. But they’ve never tested this assumption before.

So, it comes as a complete shock to be held up as if he weighs nothing at all. He has no time to get over the surprise before Aziraphale is spreading his cheeks, the tip of his cock already teasing at his entrance.

“Crowley,” he begs into the skin of his neck. “Please, love, I need to—”

“Y-yes.” The demon manages to say. He doesn’t need to think about it. The answer is always yes when Aziraphale wants something, anything. He focuses for a moment and immediately his body is ready for his angel – stretched and slick, open and warm for him.

“Thank you, oh, oh good Lord, thank you—” Aziraphale pushes all the way in with one smooth thrust, making Crowley gasp. “You feel perfect. You’re lovely, I’m sorry, I’m…”

“Fuck me, angel.” Crowley hisses between gritted teeth. “Apologies later.”

Without a moment to spare, he begins moving hard and fast, banging him into the wall until the shelves above them shake. He wraps his hand around Crowley’s cock without any grace, pumping in time with his thrusts. He keeps going at breakneck speed, relentless, filling the room with the sounds of their bodies, with their loud moans and senseless babbling.

He doesn’t stop until he rips an orgasm out of him, making the demon howl into his ear, the evidence of his pleasure shooting between their bodies.

It’s only a few more thrusts before he comes hard inside Crowley’s body with one last, strong push, and they crumple to the floor.

* * *

It takes Aziraphale a minute or ten to get his bearings. When he does, he immediately, weakly, reaches for his lover, cradling him in his arms.

He lets out an incredulous breath. “That was…” But he has no words for it.

Crowley curls up against his chest and Aziraphale rests his back against the wall, holding him tight.

“I, um.” Aziraphale begins. “I lost control for a few minutes there. Are you alright, Crowley?”

“I’ve created a monster.” Replies the demon with a hoarse, short laugh. “And all I did was ask you to pull on my hair…”

“You did a lot more than that. You know you did.” Aziraphale fires back as he looks over his demon, making sure he’s still in one piece.

“Actually,” Crowley smiles, rolling a shoulder and then the other. “A temptation ends the moment you give into it. So, after that? It was all you, angel.”

Aziraphale feels his face go up in flames. “Please, at least tell me I did right by you, I wouldn’t want—”

Crowley kisses him tenderly. The smile he gives him after the kiss, on the other hand, is not tender at all. “That was the fastest I’ve ever finished. We should do it again, sometime.”

“I think I quite agree.” Aziraphale smiles back, running a comforting hand along his spine. “But not right now. Now we’re going to bed, and I’m going to carry you up the stairs.”

He hooks an arm under Crowley’s knees and one below his shoulders, lifting him up like a sack of potatoes. A very squirmy sack of potatoes, that yelps as he’s lifted off the floor for the second time that day.

“I can walk—! Aziraphale! I am a literal demon from Hell, I will not be carried—”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale replies, making for the stairs without hesitation. “Of course you are, dearest.”

**Author's Note:**

> <strike>Might write a companion piece where Crowleys gets a taste (hah, get it?) of Aziraphale's celestial powers. We'll see!</strike>
> 
> I did write the companion piece, it's called Seven and you can [find it here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178571).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Peach](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21453316) by [Literarion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literarion/pseuds/Literarion)
  * [[Podfic] Peach](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21922462) by [semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfiona/pseuds/semperfiona_podfic)


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